


Soot

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Vignette, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 07:54:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18116546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Prompto and Noctis made a mess.





	Soot

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Same plot as yesterday, oops.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s hard to find secluded spots in the barren desert, but where there’s a will, there’s a way, and Prompto’s got all the will in the world when it comes to banging Noctis. They found a good groove between two rocks they could just barely fit through, wings and all, and it doesn’t matter if it was dirty and dusty and cramped. They finally got a moment of privacy. Prompto finally got to feel Noctis’ pliant body writhing under his, and he’s still high on the afterglow. 

It takes a bit of work to wipe off the grime afterwards—they tug their clothes back on and try to finger-comb out each other’s wings, something Prompto always enjoys—grooming Noctis always feels so _personal_ and _intimate_. It only compounds their connection. Prompto’s not just an easy lay for his handsome prince: he’s the man that sticks around to take care of Noctis’ glossy black down, and Noctis returns the favour with Prompto’s shorter brown-gold feathers. There’s only so much they can do in the dry heat, but they try. At least Prompto gets most the ruffled quills back in the right direction. Noctis declares them finished with a fleeting kiss to Prompto’s cheek, and then they’re wandering back to camp.

Gladiolus is waiting outside the tent, enjoying cup noodles in his foldout chair. It’s not quite dark enough yet to strike up a fire, but they will soon enough when Ignis returns to make their meal. In Gladiolus’ case, it’ll be seconds. Prompto considers it good fortune that Ignis isn’t back yet—Gladiolus works out so much that he constantly reeks of sweat, and that should help cover the stench of sex that still clings to Noctis and Prompto. Ignis, on the other hand, always smells perfectly fresh no matter the occasion. Hopefully the camp’s musk will have dissipated by the time that he returns. At least, Prompto assumes Ignis is gone, still out getting gas from the nearby garage rather than waiting in the tent. Unfortunately, the only accommodations near the garage were in a hotel they couldn’t afford. Normally, Prompto would whine about that, but for once, the desert’s worked out well enough. He won’t mind snuggling with Noctis on the hard ground of the campsite, now that they’ve already had their fun. 

They hike up onto the raised platform of the campsite, bee-lining for their tent, but Gladiolus looks up then and stops them. He snaps out of the blue, “Noct!”

Noctis halts, and Prompto stops just short of walking into his right wing. While Prompto ducks around it, Noctis asks, “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’?” Gladiolus barks, gesturing forward like it’s obvious. “What happened to your wings?”

Prompto stiffens. He looks where Gladiolus is pointing and spots a patch of mud he missed, but he knows Gladiolus wouldn’t throw a fuss over one blemish alone. When Prompto really looks for it, he can see all the other flecks of dirt latched onto Noctis’ soft feathers, though there wasn’t much he could do about most of it without water anyway. Noctis lifts the more sullied wing, glances at it, and shrugs. “S’fine.”

“Yeah,” Gladiolus snorts, “you and I think that. But Iggy’s gonna have a fit when he sees it.”

That does have Noctis flushing. Prompto can feel his cheeks heating too, but not so much in worry as guilt—he should’ve done a better job. He’s always taken pride in grooming Noctis after sex, but that was mostly back in Insomnia, where there wasn’t any dirt involved. And it’s not just that he didn’t clean up enough—he caused the mess in the first place. He pushed Noctis down onto the hard earth without a second thought to filth, and he even bore down over Noctis, grinding their hips together, rubbing Noctis into it. When Noctis tried to sit up, Prompto pinned him down, driving deeper into him before pulling out and climbing up to ride him. Prompto’s own wings had enjoyed the warm air, while Noctis’ wings had stayed crushed beneath him. And Prompto made Noctis work up quite a sweat, moistening everything, turning dirt and dust into slick mud. 

He ducks his head, unable to meet Gladiolus’ eyes with those images in his brain. He hears Noctis pat a few feathers off and mutter, “Well... we can find a stream to wash in tomorrow, it’s not _that_ bad...”

Grumbling, Gladiolus sets the remains of his noodles down by the fire-pit. Prompto knows it’s serious when Gladiolus gets out of his chair. “C’mon, we’d better clean you up. We can’t afford to piss off our chef and driver out here.”

Noctis looks ready to resist, but Prompto agrees, “Definitely! I’ll do it, though, Gladio, you shouldn’t have to...”

“’Course I should; I’m supposed to be watching his royal ass too. Hold on, I got a good brush...” Gladiolus turns away, and as soon as he’s ducked into the tent, Prompto leans into Noctis. 

“You shouldn’t be on the literal bottom while we’re out here anymore.”

“What?” Noctis’ head whips around, expression already horrified, even though Prompto’s not at all suggesting they stop messing around, just that they stop with that one position. “Prom, no—”

“He’s right, though, if Ignis sees you like this—”

“Then he can stuff it,” Noctis heatedly counters, “because I’m not topping every time! I _like_ being on the bottom. That’s like, my favourite position.”

Prompto’s head tilts. “What, lying down?”

“Yeah. Just... lying there while you do all the work.”

Prompto can’t help a giggle-snort, because that’s so quintessentially _Noctis_. He should’ve known. But then Gladiolus is wandering back, and they both fall quiet. Immediately, they get to work, Prompto and Gladiolus guiding Noctis to the center of the camp, sitting him down, and starting to gently wipe off each and every feather. But Prompto keeps the conversation in mind so they can continue it later, and make sure they never get Ignis forbidding them to lie on top of each other completely.


End file.
